In Other Worlds - The Other Side
by M.E. Vaughan
Summary: A twin story to FlyingFoxSly's 'In Other Worlds'. When Zachary goes in search of his missing brother, he stumbles instead upon a very lost Amy, who has somehow swapped worlds with Rufus. Conscious she must be taken care of until this in-balance is resolved, Zachary takes her into his care as they try to find a way to get her home, and reclaim Rufus. (Harmatia Cycle x Unveiled)
1. Harmatia

**So my good friend, the extraordinarily talented J.A. Ironside (Aka. FlyingFoxSly) has been writing a fic called, 'In Other Worlds' which is a crossover between her book 'I Belong to the Earth' and mine. The Story which follows Rufus who, somehow, finds himself wondering the moors of Yorkshire, having been spirited away from Harmatia. He ends up in the care of the budding medium Emilynn, who quickly becomes aware that with Rufus's arrival, her little sister Amy has gone missing.**

 **As Rufus and Emilynn try to figure out how to set things back into order, I thought I would try my hand and writing what was happening on the otherside, as Amy tries to navigate her way through Harmatia.**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters from** _ **I Belong to the Earth**_ **and am simply using them for story telling purposes.**

 **In Other Worlds – The Other Side**

He had followed the trail for near a half-mile along cold slopes and dewed meadows, and was getting steadily more frustrated. It was too early in the morning to be doing this task; he had been up all night, and wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed and sleep until noon. A brisk wind blew up through his clothes, aggravating the situation. It had been a cold night, and anyone foolish enough to have slept outside would be regretting it…If they woke at all, that was.

Zachary grimaced at the pale light which peered out from the mass of clouds above them. It was going to rain soon. He pressed on, drawing just enough magic into him to heighten his senses, but keep his wings at bay. It would not do to scare some poor Shepard half to death; the day was already promising to be miserable enough without having to chase after someone, assure them he was not a demon, and bribe them into keeping silent.

"Sons of the Gods Merle, you had better not have been drunk." Zachary jumped down into a bank, following the faded signs of footprints, and other disturbances. From the weave of Rufus's walk, drunk was exactly what he had been. How much he had had to consume to achieve that, Zachary did not know, but he wagered that tab would be high.

Up ahead, the path opened again and Zachary spotted a figure stood out in-front of him. He stopped short and examined her from his vantage point, remaining quiet. She had her back to him – for Zachary presumed it was a girl, her blonde hair caught in the wind and flipping wildly around her head and neck. She turned, and spotted him, starting in surprise.

She was young, no more though not entirely a child; close to the age of one of Zachary's sister, Charlotte, though a little more comely. She was garbed in a strange, soft red doublet with a hood attached to it, and cotton trousers that clung to her long, slim legs revealingly. Her shoes were white, and very peculiar, and she looked extremely out of place.

Neither moved, and at last she coughed, and gave him an awkward, nervous wave. "Hello." She said slowly, as if unsure of whether he could understand her, or what his intentions might be. Zachary tried to look less threatening.

"Good morning." He replied, eyeing her. He could still smell Rufus's trail, but it seemed to end where the girl was stood. He saw patches where his brother had been lying, probably only hours before, but no trail that led away. It was as if he had vanished, and this strange, pretty little thing had taken his place. Zachary narrowed his eyes.

"You wouldn't…You wouldn't be able to tell me where I am, would you?" The girl asked, "Only…I think I might be lost."

"I rather think you are." Zachary agreed, and he came forward. She immediately jumped back at his quick stride and he evened himself. Once, he had been good with children, but the Patrol was making him gruff. He remembered himself, raising his hands, before putting one out. "My name is Arlen Zachary. You are in Harmatia."

The girl considered his hand very carefully, and then in a calculated, but friendly manner, took it and shook it firmly. "I'm Amy." She said, "What did you mean by 'rather think I was?"

"You are clearly not of this plain." Zachary remarked, eyeing her clothes.

"Oh, good…Someone who knows about the freaky things. Emilynn is totally to blame for this, I know it. She's always at the centre of this crazy stuff…God, I'm starting to sound like Grace." Amy spoke quietly to herself, and though she was putting on a jovial expression, Zachary could see there was a nervousness about her. She was well and truly lost, looking anxiously over her shoulder to the open grounds all around. "Another plain you say…That's not very good for me, is it?"

"Probably not." Zachary murmured. "I am out here looking for my brother, Rufus. Have you seen him?"

"Rufus?" Amy frowned, "No, I don't think so."

"He is so tall," Zachary motioned with his hands, "Dark haired, blue eyes, possibly drunk and rambling. Maybe naked."

Amy snorted, "I think I'd remember that."

"Hm." Zachary looked down, "It's only…I have been following his trail, and it ends here. Here, where you begin."

"I see." Amy bit her lip. She was really rather pretty, though still young. Zachary did not like the idea of what might have happened had someone else, less savoury, found her wondering out here alone. "This is going to sound a little mad," She laughed cautiously, "But I think we might have swapped places…Only, I was doing my homework in the kitchen a minute ago, and then suddenly I was here." She was struggling to keep her composure, "I don't think Har-…Harmatia, was it? I don't think that's in Yorkshire, is it?"

"I suppose that rather depends what 'Yorkshire' is."

"A county in Britain."

"Harmatia is a Kingdom. That," Zachary gestured to the city in the distance, "Is the capital."

"Wonderful." Amy was breathing a little fast. The first spatters of rain began to fall. "You don't seem surprised by any of this…Is this a common occurrence here? People appearing out of nowhere?"

"Oh, faeries and other things will have their mischief," Zachary grunted, "I have heard stories about people appearing and disappearing around the marshes. Most of the causes are probably innocent…As innocent as slavers, bandits and bog-waters can be…You are lucky _I_ found you."

"You seem incredibly calm about all this." Amy said, nervously. She was suspicious of him, and had every right to be.

"Well, it seems to me that Merle – that is my brother-"

"-I thought it was Rufus?"

"-Rufus Merle."

"-You call him by your surname?" Amy interrupted again.

"-He's not my…You misunderstand. Merle is my brothering _apprentice_. No relation."

"-Apprentice of what?"

"-Will you let me finish my sentence?" Zachary couldn't help but smile, and Amy ducked her head. She was a curious thing, her bright eyes inquisitive.

 _Octania, she reminds me of Merle. Perhaps that's why the gods saw fit to swap them. One intellect for another, to fill the space._

"Merle is probably to blame for this, in some way or another. He has a knack for finding mischief, and it's not the first time he's…how shall we say…Disappeared. Though he doesn't usually leave another in his place. Come," Zachary gestured, "Whatever truth, about how you came to be here, and how you may return can wait. It's going to rain, and you seem ill-equipped for the weather."

Amy looked down at her strange clothes, tugging at them. "Well, I didn't exactly get the chance to change for time-travel. What era is this, exactly?" She was eyeing his clothes, as if they were strange.

"It is the twenty-first year of King Thestian's reign."

"So like…1764?"

"I am…Not sure I understand." Zachary's frown deepened.

"You don't keep numerical years here?"

"No?" Zachary looked at her peculiarly, "Why would anyone do that?"

"To keep track of time."

"How incredibly lazy. Do you not learn basic history in your world? Why should you number something, when you can mark any time in history by the events that surround it?"

"We do that as well, but numbers makes everything simpler." Amy stopped and then laughed, "Jesus, this is unreal…I'm stuck out in the middle of God knows where, in God knows when, talking to a man about the record of time."

"I am sorry," Zachary apologised, "this must be difficult for you. Will you allow me to accompany you back to my home? At the very least, I can provide you with some shelter and food until we conjure a means by which to return you to your proper place, and by which I may reclaim my troublesome brother."

"Siblings, am I right?" Amy rolled her eyes in agreement. Zachary smiled curtly and gestured she follow. She did not. "Wait. How do I know I can trust you…Only…I've met attractive men out on the moors before, and…Well It didn't exactly end well." Amy said carefully, "There were a couple of possessions involved, Emilynn broke her arm, I almost died…It wasn't fun."

"No," Zachary said, in soft astonishment, "I imagine not. I'm afraid there's nothing I can say to assure you. I am quite untrustworthy, and a notorious brute. However, I am also the only person you've met out here, and I have a big house, and a warm kitchen. So it's entirely your choice."

Amy giggled softly, and inclined her head. "Ok, you win."

Zachary bowed his head graciously, the pair setting off together. "What does 'Ok' mean?"

"Oh, like…it's like 'Alright', but less formal, kind of cooler, I guess."

"What exactly makes it colder?"

"No, it's…Look, it's slang for 'alright', ok? I mean, alright. Urh – this is going to be hard. It stands for Zero Killed."

"Zero killed?" Zachary mouthed, "O…K…Hm," he looked out over the city coming forward him, "Don't be so sure of that." He whispered, trying to draw back on the night before. The Patrol was a little bit of a blur to him. He certainly hadn't eaten that night, but he wasn't sure if anyone else had caught a criminal out after the curfew. If they had, Zachary would try to avoid taking Amy up that street; the blood-spattered walls probably wouldn't comfort her.

"And cool, well…When something is cool, we don't necessarily mean colder. It's also how we express when something is…Cool, I don't know. This is hard to explain." Amy seemed to be trying to distract herself from the bizarre situation with chatter, and Zachary let her. She clearly had an active mind, and needed to keep it moving, in order to save it from panic. Rufus was much the same. "You know when someone does something nice for you, and they didn't have to, but it's just a small thing, and you're pleased by it, but you don't want to make a fuss because you know it would embarrass them, so instead you say 'Cool, thanks'. Like, it makes it's casual, but shows appreciation."

"Gracious, you have a word for that precise situation?"

"No, I mean that was just an example. Like, you seem pretty cool."

"I am…" Zachary had to think about this, "I am a well-meant, but casual expression of gratitude?"

Amy laughed sharply. "I'm really not explaining this well, am I? Sorry…When someone is cool, it means they're interesting, but again it's…It's casual. It means you've got a lot of a certain quality, without it being too much. I think. It's hard to describe."

"I think I understand." Zachary said slowly, "So somebody who is intelligent, but not arrogant."

"Yeah; they'd be cool." Amy suddenly winced, "Though I guess cool also means someone who's popular, or is following the latest trends."

"Trends?" Zachary again was lost.

"Fashion."

"Ah."

"Sorry. I'm rambling." Amy quietened down. The rain was really starting to fall now, and Zachary looked anxiously down to the girl. She was barely disguising her shivering; her strange, hooded doublet did nothing to keep out the rain, even though she had pulled the hood over her head. It seemed totally decorative, and not at all practical. Zachary considered unfastening his cloak and putting it over her shoulders, but she was much smaller than him, and it would be heavy and trail a long way behind her. Instead, he raised it up and over her head, using his arm to shelter her.

"I don't mean to be forward, but you may wish to come to my side. I'd give you my cloak, but I think you'd struggle to bear it."

Again, Amy seemed unsure. She was a shrewd girl, and rightfully wary, but she was also cold, and young, and so she did as he suggested, tucking herself in close to him. He carefully put his arm around her shoulder.

"Is that alright?" he asked, and she nodded. He rested it there more firmly, the cloak curling protectively around her. She put her arm around his waist, in order to steady herself with the new awkward angle. Zachary jumped a little as she brushed his back with a cold arm, but disguised his momentary discomfort.

By the time they made it into the city, her teeth were chattering. All the same, as they passed through the gates, and up toward the castle, Zachary could see Amy peering out in wonder, her eyes scanning the streets and people.

A few of the citizens looked back at the strange girl, but quickly turned their gaze when they noticed Zachary's robe. Amy noticed their averted stares. "Why are they afraid of you?"

"I told you; I am untrustworthy, and a notorious brute."

"But you were joking."

"Was I?" Zachary said with a mirthless laugh, and he felt Amy frown. She did not leave her safe position at his side though.

"You must be some sort of...Lord or something." She discerned, "right?"

"I am a Magi."

"A Mage?"

"Ma _gi_." Zachary repeated, "From the old word Magicus."

"Wait," Amy peered out from her little hollow, "Can you do _magic_? Like properly – not just coin tricks or pulling a rabbit from a hat."

"Why would put a rabbit in a-…Yes, I can do magic." Zachary said, shaking his head. She was peculiar, or at least the world she inhabited was.

"Really?"

"Really."

"I don't believe you." Amy retreated back under the cloak, "Ok, no; I believe you. I've seen enough weird things by now. My sister…She has these abilities."

"Abilities?"

"She sees ghosts, and can tell things…You know how you were saying this was your brother's fault, well it might be Emilynn's too. She can…Open dimensions, I think. She did it once before – or at least that's what she said."

"That is quite a power." Zachary murmured, "Perhaps she will open it again, when she sees you are gone, and pull you back."

"Maybe I need to stay in the same spot." Amy began to worry.

"I doubt that. You are the anchor; she will find you, don't fret. Here, we've arrived." Zachary pulled her up the stairs to his household, and pulled open the door, not bothering to knock and wait for a servant to let them in.

He pushed Amy through first, into the dry and she whistled as she came into his entrance hall. "You weren't kidding when you said it was big! Wow, I've only ever seen stair-cases like that in movies." Amy exclaimed. "I bet you enjoy walking down it. Must make you feel important."

"Not really, I usually only come down it when I've gotten up. Sleepy is the word I'd choose."

"Lord Zachary." Heather Benson bustled into the room, roused from her work by the commotion. She greeted him formally, eyeing the dripping girl at his side.

"Mrs Benson," Zachary said back, with equal formality, though he shot her a cheeky smile, "I discovered his girl in place of my troublesome brother. She is quite lost, and thus will be our guest until I can return her home. Would you mind terribly finding her a warm place to dry off and getting her something to eat?"

There was a sudden, very sharp clap of thunder from outside, and Amy jumped. She had not struck Zachary as the type to be frightened by such a small thing, but a sharp, absolute terror flashed in her eyes, as if all of a sudden, she had been drawn back into a terrible nightmare. She looked pale.

Mrs Benson took immediate charge. "I can do better that that. Come with me girl, what's your name?"

"Amy." Amy said in a soft voice.

"Miss Amy. I shall run you a bath, so you can get the chill from your bones, and then we'll put you in some clean clothes whilst yours," Heather picked disapprovingly at the sodden doublet, "dry. I'll have the kitchen's reheat the morning broth. We'll have you warm and comfortable in no time."

"Thank you." Amy seemed relieved, "Wow, I haven't been this well treated since…" her voice drew off, and Zachary saw a sadness in her. It was something he recognised, a look of loss, a stolen childhood. He felt weariness spread through his chest; she was too young to have such a sad expression.

"Mrs Benson will take good care of you. When you are ready, I will be in the library. Come and find me then."

"Thank you." Amy repeated, a little softer, and Zachary smiled graciously. Keeping her safe and warm, it was the least he could do, at least until Rufus returned and resolved the mess he'd caused.


	2. Ghosts

**Yo! Ok, so I'm not entirely sure what I'm doing, but I like writing interactions and whatnot, so…Yeah. Hope you enjoy. This one's a little more serious.**

 **In Other Worlds – The Other Side**

Amy had never been so glad for a bath. The water was deliciously warm, and though at first it had felt strange to have Mrs Benson bustling around her as she soaked, and then cleaning her back and hair, she had soon started to relax.

"This like being a the hair-dressers." She noted as Heather washed out her hair, massaging her scalp with skilful hands. It felt wonderful. "only, I'm completely naked and…" She drew off. The stern-faced woman gave her a peculiar look, but did not stop, keeping at her task.

On rail nearby, her tracksuits and hoody had been draped close to a fire and were drying out. The crackle oF the fire and the tinkle of the water was a comforting sound and Amy felt safe and comforted, even as the storm raged on outside.

She wasn't sure what had come over her. She had never used to be afraid of thunder and lightening, but somehow that first clap had transported her back to another cold night, when there had been something else inside of her. The cold girl. The sad girl. Amy shivered, trying to push away the unhappy thoughts.

"Are you still cold, Miss Amy?" Heather asked worried.

"What? Oh, no. I'm fine. Thank you." Amy assured, scrubbing her arms. The water smelt of lavender and had rose petals in it. She felt like she was at some exotic spa, and her skin felt incredibly soft. Grace would be so jealous.

Eventually the bath water started to cool and Amy had to step out of it. She was enveloped in a gigantic, linen towel and scrubbed dry. It was very peculiar being touched by someone else in this way, but Amy allowed it to happen, though she couldn't help bUT feel awkward as Mrs Benson efficiently dried the area around her breasts and backside. She caught the old woman glancing at her pinched expression. "Sorry, I'm not used to…to all of this."

Quietly, and without a word, Mrs Benson passed ownership of the towel over to Amy, letting her take control over it.

"Sorry, I don't mean to offend."

"Lord Zachary is similar." She assured, "Doesn't like to be fussed over. I am quite used to it."

"Thank you." Amy dried her hair, squeezing it of excess water, and Mrs Benson came out with some clothes which Amy eyed warily. She might need some help navigating her way into those.

Tying her hair back up, she was able to pull the chemise on. It felt strange wearing it without a bra, like she was putting on a night-dress. The chemise came down to her knees, and had grand, rather puffy sleeves that made her feel somewhere between ridiculous, and a princess. Next, Heather produced a rather heavy, cream coloured skirt, which rustled. Amy stepped into it, and let the old woman tie it tightly around her waist. It was huge, and again Amy giggled, running her hands down it. She felt like she'd stepped into a period drama, and though she wouldn't want to wear the restrictive clothing forever, she rather enjoyed the experience.

Finally came a sort of outer dress, which split at the skirt. It was a navy blue in colour, with short sleeves which she put her arm through, the chemise puffing out through it. Mrs Benson pulled the corset tight, but unlike the movies, it wasn't an uncomfortable feeling, and she certainly wasn't crushed beneath it.

She ran her hands down along the dress as Heather bade her to sit down, producing lily white stockings with modest frills and a set of plain, black shoes. These were a little big, but Mrs Benson laced them tightly, and Amy was confident they would stay on.

Finally, Mrs Benson took to Amy's hair. She brushed it out carefully, breaking the silence for the firts time. "You have beautiful hair." She noted. "It reminds me of my niece, Katrina. It has been so long since I've done a girls hair, I hope you won't object."

"Not at all." Amy bid, though she suspected this sentimentality was actually just a clever disguise for Mrs Benson wanting to neaten her up. She sat very still, and let the old woman do as she pleased. Her hair was thoroughly brushed and dried, and then plaited and bound up with pins which bit a little at her scalp.

At last the transition seemed complete, and Mrs Benson led her to a mirror to inspect herself. Amy was strangely pleased by the reflection, though a little dazed. There were people, she knew, who looked as if they stepped out of another age. Their features lended themselves to something older, and more mysterious, that made them look like characters from a story. Her mother had been a little like that, and Emilynn too, with her angular build, cheek bones, and her curvaceous hair. Amy had always been a little jealous; Grace looked like a supermodel, and Emilynn like the heroine of some story, whereas Amy had always imagined herself somewhat uninspiring in both departments. Not ugly, but…Well, certainly not someone who would draw much attention.

And yet, stood as she was, in these strange clothes, Amy was struck by how much they suited her. Her hair was bound in a way she had never tried before, pulled at the side, with little intricate plaits curling up and around her head like a crown. The navy brought out her paler, making her seem stark and delicate, and her figure suited the dress, though she could have probably done with a little more hip.

"It suits you well." Mrs Benson noted. "Now come along; let's get some food in you. You look half-perished."

Navigating the stairs in the heavy skirt proved to be difficult, and Amy came to understand why in films people always seemed to take their time coming down them. It did make her feel rather important though, and she smiled quietly to herself as Mrs Benson directed her through a large dining room into an even larger, if somewhat dark library.

There, seated in a high arm-chair by a roaring fire, Zachary was dosing softly. He woke as they came into the room, Mrs Benson giving a soft knock to announce themselves.

"Ah, that looks a little better." He stood, "Sorry, I was on patrol all night am a rather tired."

"You can go to bed, if you like." Amy said, guiltily. "I'll manage."

"No, it's fine. I snatched a few hours this morning, and I'll take a few more later this evening. Come, sit – Heather will fetch you some food." He nodded to Mrs Benson, seemingly losing any formality he had been holding earlier. She was watching in steadily, almost with disapproval, as if she too wanted to hurry him up to bed, but did as she was bid, leaving the room. Amy took a seat, looking up and around the dark shelves that surrounded her.

"Is all this yours?"

"Yes. My grandfather starting accumulating this library about two-hundred and twenty years ago. I have kept it fed, and modernised."

"Two hundred and twenty years?" Amy asked, "How is that possible?"

"He was a Magi, like me. We live a long while."

"Who long is long?"

"Oh, between two-hundred to three."

"Are you kidding me!?" Amy sat forward sharply, "Three-hundred years!?"

"Well, only if you're very lucky. And powerful. I imagine I'll make about two-hundred and fifty." Zachary did not move. He was watching her carefully, the light of the fire flickering across the severe features of his face. He was almost frightening, but Amy found there was something very warm, and amiable in him, somehow. She could trust him.

"How old are you now?"

"Twenty-seven."

"Oh." For some reason, Amy felt herself blush. "I thought…I thought you were younger."

"I'm not old." Zachary's moth twitched, and Amy swallowed. "And you, how old are you? Fifteen, I'd say?"

"Thirteen."

"Ah. You're tall. And wise, for your age."

"I get that a lot." She fiddled with her sleeve, suddenly feeling shy. Mrs Benson came back into the room.

"The food is served."

"Bring it in here," Zachary asked. "There's not point sitting at that stupid table. It's cold in there. Bring a tray."

Mrs Benson disappeared, and returned a moment later, bearing a bowel of something which smelt mouth-watering. She brought it to Amy carefully, on a dainty tray and placed it down. Amy leant in and sniffed it appreciatively. She hadn't realised how hungry she was.

"Thank you." She said eagerly and began to eat. After a few hefty mouthfuls, she remembered Zachary watching her, and continued, a little more demurely. His chuckle was deep and long, like the purr of a large cat.

Outside, the lightening and thunder continued, but Amy noticed that all of the shutters were closed in the library, the forks of light barely visible through the cracks. She noticed the same thing coming through the dinning room; that the windows were all covered and muffled, and wondered vaguely if this was done out of practicality, or whether Zachary had done it for her.

"I'm not afraid of thunder and lightening, you know." She felt the need to say.

"I never said you were." Zachary was staring into the fire, his face quiet and thoughtful.

"I only jumped because it surprised me, earlier."

"I see."

"I'm not afraid." She repeated, scooping another spoonful of the delicious soup into her mouth. It was fragrant and hot and seemed to have been made with love. Amy would have to get the recipe. See if she couldn't cook it for Emilynn and Grace…

Emilynn and Grace…Amy wondered if they were worried about her. She hoped they were alright. Emilynn would sort it out, of that Amy could be sure. Maybe she was with this Rufus character now. Amy hoped he was kind, like Zachary.

"Are you worried about him?" Amy prompted Zachary from his thoughts. His thoughtful expression had hardened, and he was staring at the fire with something close to anger in the set of his mouth.

"Merle?" Zachary asked, "Yes. On an almost constant basis."

"You must be close."

"Not particularly." Zachary sniffed, turning away. "Not anymore."

At Amy's questioning look, his lips quirked up, ever so slightly at the end, but there was nothing happy about his expression.

"Of late the pair of us have found ourselves venturing down different paths…Our loyalties are - how shall we say - divided. But he's still my brother, and in part my responsibility. Besides, he's not been very well recently. He is…tormented, up here." Zachary tapped his forehead. "I'd rather he didn't do anything foolish, when it might have been prevented."

"I'm sorry to hear that. What happened?"

"He lost somebody, we think. But he won't say." Zachary's voice grew soft, and Amy was able to sense a gathering darkness around her companion. She had never had the level of Emilynn's skill, but after the events which had rocked the little vicarage they now called home in rural Yorkshire, Amy had found her own senses sharpening. She was able to…feel certain energies, though this perceptiveness seemed to come and go quite without her control. In some ways, it alarmed her, opening up a can of worms which she'd rather now remained firmly shut, but in other ways, it was also exciting, and new; like a legacy she was stepping into. At times like this, this newly developed skill allowed her a unique perspective of the people around.

"You've lost someone too." She noted, and Zachary grew very still. His smile was terse when he looked back at her.

"Now what gives you that impression?"

Amy could hardly explain the gathering shadows that clustered around Zachary, clinging to him like heavy shackles, so instead she just shrugged. "Don't know. You seem kind of…sad."

"Alas, it's in the natural curvature of my face." Zachary joked, and Amy sensed that he did that; told jokes to cover a quiet severity. For a second, she suddenly found herself comparing him to Emilynn. The two couldn't be more contrary, Emilynn with her stutter, and Zachary with his smooth tone and quick quips, and yet…They had a similar, shy sort of anger about them. A sort of reservation which boasted something much larger, and darker and deeper than could be permitted to say…Emilynn because she struggled to get the words out, and Zachary because…

Well, whatever reason he decided to make self-deprecating jokes instead of speaking the truth.

" _I am untrustworthy, and a notorious brute."_ He had said, as he covered her head with his cloak, and asked her permission before placing his arm on her shoulder.

"You have ghosts hanging around you." Amy suddenly blurted, before she could stop herself. "And you're afraid to talk about them."

Zachary raised his eyebrows. "Ghosts?" he glanced over each shoulder, comically. "I suppose I shouldn't be surprise, not in this castle. Fortunately for me they seem to be quiet tenants, so I suppose I don't mind them."

Amy pouted irritably and took another, angry spoonful of her meal. Zachary's smile grew, and there seemed to be a genuine mirth to it.

"It's not good you know." She told him. "Keeping it locked in. You may think it protects people, but actually it makes everything worse. It destroys relationships. Families."

 _It almost got mine killed._ She added softly to herself. In an instant Zachary's smile was gone, and he was once more giving her that long, calculated stare. His face seemed to fall, the firelight emphasising the strict lines of his face, and the hollows around his eyes.

"He was my friend." The Magi suddenly said. "A boy. A little younger. The Crown Prince. I was meant to protect him but he died. Assassinated. His name was Sverrin."

The information came out in short, concise bursts, almost clinical. Amy slowly lowered her spoon, eyes wide. Zachary was blank faced, staring at her, waiting for her verdict.

"God, that's terrible..." She said, and he blinked slowly.

"Yes." Zachary agreed, almost too quickly. "But not as terrible as your tragedy, I am sure."

The spin of the conversation made Amy almost feel dizzy.

"You're a child," Zachary said, and Amy was almost offended by the throw-away tone of his voice, "And yet you are clearly educated in the motions of death, and more."

Amy looked down at her food, her appetite faded. She suddenly didn't want to speak, but realised that it was unjust to pry and finger at the stitching of Zachary's psych, with-out also sharing. She swallowed.

"My mother," She said, feeling dumb. Everyone in their home town knew the vicar's wife was dead, and even the kids at her school– such was the consequence of living in a small community – but Amy had never had much cause to talk about it to anyone outside of her direct family. It felt strange to share with an outsider, especially a man she had just met. How did she begin to explain what had happened? Did she go into the details of the tumour? The suicide?

In the end, she stuck with the simple truth. "She died in a car crash."

"I am sorry." Zachary had once more grown soft, and small, his expression doleful. Amy scrapped her spoon across the bottom of the bowl, before realising -

"Sorry. You don't know what a car is." She made to explain, but he held up his hand.

"No. I don't have to." He assured, "I am sorry for…For compelling you to share that. It wasn't fair of me."

"I guess it wasn't fair of me either."

"No, you spoke wisely." Zachary stood again, "Your company is really quite refreshing. Are you done with your food? Good. Then if you'll excuse me, I must be off now. My Master will be waiting for news of my search for Merle, and there is work to be done."

Amy stood, "Can I come with you?" She asked forwardly, "Only…If I'm stuck here…I'd quite like to look around. Plus, I think if I just sat here I might start to lose my mind."

Zachary considered this, "As you wish," he agreed, "But if you do, there is to be no talk of appearing suddenly in the marshes, from a different world, alright? That truth I will share only with a trusted few. If anyone else asks, you are the daughter of a friend of mine, from Corhlam. Can you remember that?"

"Corhlam. Daughter of a friend. Got it."

"Stick to as much of the truth as possible, where you can…If you're unsure, don't answer." Zachary fetched his outer cloak, which he had hung up close to the fire. It was dry and stiff. He shook it out, and pulled it on, before calmly extended his arm. "Shall we then, Miss Amy?" He said, pompously, and she giggled and took the arm, feeling like Elizabeth Bennet from Pride and Prejudice.

"Indeed," she put on a voice, "my good Lord Zachary, let's."


End file.
